


you give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh

by seaworn



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Otabek Altin, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Biting, Bottom Otabek Altin, Boys In Love, DJ Otabek mentioned in one sentence lmao, I don't address that a lot but they're not figure skaters okay, Like very lightly, M/M, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top Yuri Plisetsky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 07:29:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10079513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaworn/pseuds/seaworn
Summary: There was still something he wanted. Desperately.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse. I just wanted to write about bottom!Otabek and that's what I did. I love these dumb boys in love. I hope you like this as well!

Their relationship was going amazingly well. They were past that awkward phase where they didn’t know what was appropriate and what was not, hands hovering without touching. They were _also_ past the point where they fucked like rabbits, so they had finally had time (and interest) to do other things together, managing to keep their hands off each other long enough to have a life that didn’t revolve around their dicks. (Even though Yuri very fond memories of those first two weeks of _finally_ getting together and how impossible it had been to leave the bed to make breakfast).

That didn’t mean they didn’t have regular sex. God, _they did_ \- They absolutely did. It was just less messy fumbling and more business. They’d fucked on every surface of their apartment and a few places outside it, too, and Yuri was _so happy._

There was still something he wanted. Desperately.

He wanted to fuck Otabek.

Their current dynamic was...Predictable. It was exactly was fanpages on the internet were fantasising about; Otabek Altin, the dark boy with serious bad boy vibes, wearing leather jackets and riding motorcycles, topping the fuck out of Yuri Plisetsky, the lightweight, the graceful boy who hadn’t dated anyone before Otabek.

Don’t get him wrong, it was all _good_ , god, so good. Yuri just wanted more.

This was something he hadn’t thought of craving, until he _had._

Yuri watched Otabek, because that’s what he did. He watched Otabek when he was asleep with his mouth slightly open. He watched Otabek make breakfast and stretch his ankles at the same time as he cut apples and oranges into nice, clean squares. He watched Otabek on ice, and he watched Otabek when he made phone calls to his family.

But Yuri _especially_ watched Otabek during sex.

Yuri loved how Otabek’s eyes turned glassy and unfocused whenever Yuri flipped them over and started riding him, taking control of their pace. He gasped and squirmed whenever Yuri ran his fingers up and down Otabek’s chest, sometimes making faint lines with his nails. Otabek absolutely fucking loved when Yuri gripped his ass with both of his hands, fingers digging into the clenching flesh, and encouraged, “come on Beka, fuck your boy _good_.”

Otabek’s eyes rolled back in his head when Yuri pulled his hair when he was fucking Yuri. His hips stuttered and he let choked moans escape his mouth as Yuri forced his head back and licked at his neck, tutting when Otabek’s pace faltered.

Otabek was so good and proper. He was the dream boyfriend, the kind of boy who was an absolute sweetheart despite how tough he looked on the outside. He took good care of Yuri, _always_ making sure he was well-fed and satisfied and happy.

Yuri thought that Otabek saw Yuri as his responsibility, somehow. Yuri was younger than him, and Otabek was his first boyfriend - the first person he’d ever had sex with. Yuri supposed that’s why they’d fallen into this kind of dynamic where Otabek mostly took the lead, not even discussing other possibilities. Okay, so he had a point - Yuri was more inexperienced. But he was experienced _with Otabek_ and he certainly wasn’t some blushing virgin anymore.

Otabek took his role as the perfect boyfriend so seriously. Yuri wanted to _wreck_ Otabek instead, give him something more. He wanted to take care of Otabek like he’d taken care of Yuri all these months. And Yuri was quite sure, when Otabek blinked rapidly and gasped whenever the Russian showed even the _tiniest_ bit of dominance, that Otabek wanted it too.

 

**

 

Yuri had made a decision to approach the subject in bed. They hadn’t talked about sex stuff explicitly outside their bedroom, so Yuri had thought that he’d be gentle with him. The evening had started normally enough; they’d both been busy during the day, Otabek with running his club and Yuri with his dance practise. They hadn’t seen each other until very late and they’d done what they always did when they were tired: They ate yesterday’s leftovers and then ended up kissing on the couch, lazily and without haste, working out whether they had the energy to take things further or not. Today they had, and Yuri had tugged Otabek with him, led him to the bedroom and shoved him onto the bed.

Things had progressed in an easy, familiar way; They’d stripped each other’s clothes and Yuri had kissed his way down Otabek’s body, settling between his legs. Otabek absolutely _loved_ when Yuri was between his legs, and that had given Yuri enough courage to try to signal what he wanted.

“Do you like this?” Yuri had asked, thumb gently stroking the underside of Otabek’s spit-slicked cock, trailing under his balls to cup them, then travelling lower, lower -  

Otabek had moaned hoarsely and spread his legs a little, drawing his knees up. Yuri had taken that as very enthusiastic _yes_ , and finally finally _finally_ gotten his fingers inside Otabek. Otabek had helped him stretch himself, messy, lube-slicked hands joining Yuri’s while he’d kissed Yuri, cheeks red in embarrassment and excitement. Yuri had taken things slow, content to let Otabek control the pace and stop at any time if he wanted to, but Otabek _hadn’t_ . He’d been desperate, mumbling things like _Yuri, Yuri, I can’t believe we’re doing this_ and _Fuck, yes, please give me more_ , and not-at-all-subtly guided Yuri’s cock to his hole.

And now they were here. Otabek, the hero of Kazahkstan, Yuri’s perfect, flawless boyfriend, splayed open in his lap, resting against the pillows. His thighs trembled against Yuri as he moved in slow, gentle movements. He had to grind his teeth together not to come at this goddamn second because christ, Otabek was tight. Instead he recited the alphabet backwards, breathed deep and tried to focus on making Otabek feel good.

It wasn’t very hard, though, apparently. Because Otabek was already panting like he’d run a marathon, mouth invitingly open and eyes wide as he stared at Yuri in wonder. He looked magnificent; his hair, much longer hair, cascading onto the white sheets, hands thrown over his head. There had been a time when Yuri had missed Otabek’s sharp undercut, but he wasn’t anymore. Otabek looked wild like this, that mess of a hair falling over his eyes and clinging to his sweaty skin.

Yuri leaned closer, putting his hands on the mattress for support. He smirked as Otabek locked his ankles together behind Yuri’s back and tried to pull him deeper. His eyes were glassy and unfocused and pure _lust_ was pouring out of his every fibre. He’d never seen Otabek this out of control before, and it was a heavenly sight.

“You _idiot_ ”, Yuri cooed affectionately and rolled his hips.  “You thought I couldn’t take care of you like this, huh?”

Otabek’s eyes were dark, _so dark_ , big and wide. “N-no! I mean-”

“No?” Yuri asked and rolled his hips again, this time with a little force. He’d been a little concerned about doing it this way around because he didn’t have experience on being inside anyone. But he must do something right if you looked at Otabek, who was shivering and canting his hips up, meeting Yuri halfway.

“I meant – “ Otabek stuttered, hands flying to Yuri’s shoulders.

“Yes?” Yuri asked sweetly, ignoring the hammering inside his ribcage and lower stomach.

“It’s so – good”, the Kazakh choked out.

“U-huh?” Yuri goaded Otabek on.

“And”, Otabek said, swallowed around his words, then tried again: “And – I just didn’t know how to ask.”

Yuri kissed him then. Desperately, passionately, lovingly. His hips kept doing a small, circular motion against Otabek (it was something Otabek did to _him_ and it felt fucking fantastic) as he nipped and bit Otabek’s lips.

“I want you to be able to tell me _anything_ ”, Yuri said, pulling back enough to look at those deep brown eyes, taking Otabek’s chin between his thumb and index finger. “Okay? That’s why we work, дорого́й.”

Otabek bit his lip, hands still clenching Yuri’s shoulders. Then he cupped Yuri’s neck and pulled him back, lips to Yuri’s ear.

“I want you to bite me”, he gasped, a voice merely a whisper against Yuri. “I want you to bite me, and - I, I want other things too, but-”

Yuri then ran his teeth over Otabek’s pulse point. “You’ll get them.”

Otabek shuddered, “Not - not all of them, you don’t-”

“All of them”, Yuri interrupted. “Whatever you want, whatever you _need_ , I’ll give it to you.”

At that, Otabek moaned and wrapped his hands around Yuri, pulling him close, gasping at the way Yuri rolled his hips against him.

Yuri hummed appreciatively and kissed Otabek’s sweaty neck, his jawline, shoulder and ear, cataloguing Otabek’s responses. He was enthusiastic and very sensitive to Yuri’s touch, waiting for Yuri to bite him, _begging_ him to.

Yuri did. He bit Otabek’s neck, the part where neck met shoulder. He kissed the sore place, then bit him again. Otabek gasped against him, raising one hand to Yuri’s head, keeping him close, rhythmically panting _shit, shit , shit_ , in sync with Yuri’s thrusts.

Yuri sucked the place he’d sunk his teeth into, already imagining the vivid colors of blue and red against his pale neck, everyone at that goddamn club knowing exactly who put them there, _Otabek_ remembering this exact moment when he touched his sore neck.

“Yura”, Otabek panted, wheezing out breaths that were heavy and shaky. He wiggled a hand between them, hand settling at the base of his leaking cock. He wasn’t stroking himself, though. “Yura, _please_.”

Yuri lifted his hand from Otabek’s neck enough to look at his face.

“Yura, please let me come – I, I need to”, Otabek babbled. Yuri managed to keep a frown from forming on his face, because _of course_ Otabek could come. Why did he even think he had to ask that? Yuri watched his boyfriend, writhing and biting his own lips, eyes bright and expecting. Unless…Unless he wanted Yuri to –

“No”, Yuri said determinedly, and Otabek _moaned ,_ a clear sound that bounced off the walls, nothing like his earlier whimpers and breaths that he’d tried to suppress. “Not just yet, babe.”

Otabek’s eyes rolled back in his head and he rested his head on the pillow. His long, black hair spread onto the clean sheets like ink, and Yuri realised how _incredibly beautiful_ Otabek was like this. He didn’t want Otabek to hold back, ever. Yuri had gotten used to seeing him as someone who was always  so composed, so put together. This was something else altogether. This is what Yuri had wanted; to find out what his boyfriend wanted and give that to him. He wanted Otabek to trust him.

He gathered that black mess of a hair in his fist and yanked. Otabek went limp, hips stuttering against Yuri, hole fluttering around Yuri’s cock.

“Yu-ri!” He gasped. “N-now, I need to – fuck”, he gasped.

Yuri was done. He would have loved to draw things out, because Otabek was amazing like this; high on pleasure, waiting for Yuri to give him a permission. But he was quickly losing his self-restraint because _Otabek wouldn’t stop squirming on his cock._ He removed his hand from Otabek’s hair and gripped his hips with both of his hands, instead. He leaned back, gathering some leverage, and started thrusting in  short, quick movements.

“Okay.  Do it, Beka”, he said, his own molten-hot lust making it harder and harder to form words.  He really needed to come, _desperately_ , and he wanted to wait until Otabek finished.  “I need to feel you.”

Otabek nodded, chest heaving, and curled his hand on his cock, frown forming between his eyes in concentration. “Fuck”, he breathed, “fuck, _Yuri!_ ”

“I don’t have all night”, Yuri gritted his teeth, because he was _so fucking close_ himself. He didn't purposefully go for a rude tone but his desperation made it sound exactly like that.

That seemed to be enough for Otabek. The boy choked, body going taut. He turned his head to the side, burying his face in the pillow, and came. So hard. Right on Yuri's cock.  His hips went up,  snapping their pelvises together,  pulling Yuri deeper.  He whimpered and gasped with trembling thighs and stomach and - _oh  good god._

Yuri’s own orgasm both caught him by surprise and didn’t – his release had been simmering between the surface for a long time now. He came,  unable to move. He fell forward, shuddering against Otabek, drowning his whimpers Otabek's neck, riding out the indescribable flood of endorphins that left him feeling light-headed and dizzy.

Yuri felt Otabek  - still shivery and panting -  wrap his arms around him,  hands petting his sweaty neck.

“котёнок”,  he murmured,  voice weak but  filled with warmth. His fingertips travelled down Yuri's spine,  cooling his overheated skin.  Yuri,  always sensitive to touch after coming,  startled at the sensation and his hips moved on their own volition, making them both hiss when his spent cock moved inside Otabek.

“котёнок”, Otabek repeated. “Up,  please." 

Shakily,  Yuri released himself from Otabek's warm neck and scrambled onto his knees,  slowly, _slowly_ pulling back.  Otabek gasped weakly and Yuri couldn't stop himself from glancing down from Otabek’s face, running his gaze from his bitten collarbones to his flushed chest to his come-stained stomach to his red, glistening thighs and himself between them. Yuri had to bite his lips together to keep his already awakening arousal at bay.

“Are you hurt?” He asked. Otabek had never hurt him, but Yuri knew from experience that sometimes a dull ache came afterwards, no matter how careful they’d been. He thought they hadn’t done it _that_ hard but he wanted to check anyway.

Otabek gave him a completely, utterly blissed-out grin and stretched his hands over his head. “No”, he shook his head. “I’d let you know if I was”, he added.

Yuri nodded and breathed deep. “Good. Back in a mo’”, he mumbled and staggered onto his feet, doing what Otabek always did to him after sex: He fetched a glass of water and dipped a towel into warm water to help clean away the stickiness.

Otabek squirmed and averted Yuri’s gaze when Yuri cleaned him, so Yuri kissed him soundly and muttered compliments until the embarrassed flush disappeared from Otabek’s face. He arranged the duvet around them better and made his way next to Otabek, snuggling close, hand on his chest, drawing circles and letters onto his skin.

Yuri blew air into Otabek’s ear gently, getting the Kazakh to open his eyes and turn to look at Yuri.

“I really fancy you, did you know?” Yuri asked gently. A part of him hated himself for being such a softy, but Otabek and orgasms always brought it out of him. And the way Otabek blushed was worth being a softy, really.

Otabek snorted. “You sap”, he mumbled and nuzzled Yuri’s cheek. “I like your cock.”

“Oh, that’s nice, Altin. You’re so romantic”, Yuri laughed and slapped Otabek’s chest.

He liked this. He liked Otabek. It was simple as that. They fit together so well despite their very different paths of life, very different tastes. Otabek made him laugh (which _wasn’t_ easy) and see worth in things that weren’t his career. He was happy and content with his life. The urgency of always having to move forward in fast pace had disappeared. He was still very determined to get successful in his career, but nowadays he could stop and breathe in deep and feel peaceful while doing it.

“Thank you”, Otabek mumbled after a while. “That was...You’re really something, Yuri Plisetsky.”

Yuri smiled and rested his head on Otabek’s chest. “Just sleep, old man. You’re gonna be exhausted tomorrow.”

“Whatever, loser."

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear what you thought of this! Feel free to come talk to me at tumblr @ [dotingdamen](http://www.dotingdamen.tumblr.com)
> 
> Also, feel free to point out any mistakes in the text - English is not my first language! <3
> 
> котёнок= kitten  
> дорого́й = dear


End file.
